


if my heart was a house (you'd be home)

by ClementineKitten



Series: btcu (body talks cinematic universe) [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, Domestic, Fluff, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Canon, Relationship Study, i apologize...... it's because i love them, they say i love you a lot it's what they deserve i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:21:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26388604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClementineKitten/pseuds/ClementineKitten
Summary: As the date for Kageyama and Hinata to go their separate ways and join teams in the Italian and Brazilian Leagues slowly but surely approaches, Hinata decides to take his boyfriend around to all of their old haunts in Miyagi as a farewell for the time being.What Kageyama doesn't know is that he has an ulterior motive.(Happy KageHina day, everyone!)
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Series: btcu (body talks cinematic universe) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1915288
Comments: 19
Kudos: 150





	if my heart was a house (you'd be home)

**Author's Note:**

> sequel to body talks, though it can technically be read on its own. is also a character and relationship study, but with DOMESTICITY this time. time for the saccharine content babey  
> title is from the owl city song of the same name (ignore the parenthetical), and make sure to read the end note for important context! enjoy!

"Hey, Tobio! Did you hear?"

"Hear what?"

An elated Hinata hops over to Kageyama, in the midst of chopping up an onion. He presents him with his unlocked phone, beaming. "Tanaka-san and Tanaka-san are gonna have a kid!" he supplies to the text message he has pulled up, a mess of emojis and exclamation marks.

"Whoa, really?" Kageyama squints at the message. It's vaguely incoherent, and seems to have been whipped up in a frenzy of emotion. Kageyama supposes they're that age, now, but the news is still kind of a shock. Maybe knowing them so long has him puzzled as to imagine what they'd be like with a child. "Congrats."

"I'll tell Tanaka-san you said 'congratulations, you two! I'm so happy for you!' with that exact inflection," Hinata says, typing away furiously. "Isn't that cool? Can you imagine Tanaka-san as a Dad?"

"Uh, not that much."

"Me neither!" he exclaims brightly. "Tanaka-san will probably be an awesome Mom, though. She took care of us in club. It can't be that different."

Kageyama slides his sliced onion to the side. "I think there's a little bit of a difference."

"Nah. It's basically the same thing, right?"

"A kid might be easier."

“Yeah, maybe.” Hinata leans against the countertop, tip-tapping away on his screen. “Said she’s about twelve weeks. That means…” He looks up at the ceiling. “...There’s a lot to go."

On the bell peppers now, Kageyama offers him a look. “Will we still be in Japan?”

Hinata pauses. His face darkens a little. “No. We won’t be,” he realizes, his tone falling off. “Aw, dang, I wanted to meet them,” he adds.

“Well, photos exist.” The knife makes a satisfying clink against the cutting board. "Besides, they won't disappear."

"Sure, sure." Hinata preens. "Well, at least they can watch Uncle Shouyou wreck shop in Brazil."

"You better 'wreck shop.' Can you put on the burner?"

Hinata turns up the burner obscenely high and Kageyama lowers it. "Aw, you believe in me, Tobio!" he coos as he fetches some vegetable oil.

"More like I expect good things," Kageyama says dully, watching Hinata pour the oil with a careful eye. He's mildly impressed when he jerks the container back up at the exact right time.

"Ah, isn't this the life." Hinata twirls around as Kageyama starts readying the vegetables and pork. "Having the Tobio expect good things of you." He smiles wryly, and Kageyama lifts the knife the slightest bit toward his face.

"Don't disappoint," he says.

Hinata sticks out his tongue. "I never do!" he chirps. "And put that knife down. It's bad etiquette."

"Are you going to be alright, cooking for yourself?" Most things in their household turn into a competition, and preparing meals is certainly no exception (Kageyama is better). Hinata looks at him, offended.

"I lived on my own before you! I know how to cook!" he objects loudly as the oil sizzles and snaps as the vegetables and meat are put in. He crosses his arms and pauses, thoughtful. "Is that why you're being weird tonight? Are you worried?"

"Weird? Since when am I being weird?" Kageyama responds hotly, caught.

"You don't got that…" Hinata pantomimes mini explosions with his hands before reverting to his previous position. "...That you usually have."

Kageyama hates that his boyfriend knows him better than he knows himself, from time to time. He wonders if reading him is an acquired skill, or if he was born like that.

He is worried; he doesn't know exactly how to voice that concern. They've been living together since pretty soon after Hinata's return from Rio, which means it's been a good few years. A good few years of waking up and going to sleep right next to Hinata. A good few years of Hinata working his way into even the most rigid parts of Kageyama's schedule. A good few years of eating dinner together and watching game footage under one blanket and going grocery shopping on the weekends.

All fairly mundane, normal things, when it comes down to it, but things he's done with Hinata right by his side. His home -- their home -- has long since not been a simple building he returns to every day, but rather, where he returns to Hinata.

It's not where he is, it's who he comes home to. And in a couple short months, that will no longer be his regular, and the concept stirs him inside similar to the way he prepares their meal for the night.

Now, he's known for some time that things couldn't last forever, like this. So long as they had the career they did, there would be piles upon piles of uncertainties in their day to day lives, team switches, practices and games changing, and while Kageyama handles these eagerly and with grace, it doesn't necessarily mean it's easy.

After all, the best things in life rarely are.

Kageyama looks up at his boyfriend from the pan.

"So…?" Hinata bends towards him.

"And what if I am?" Kageyama stirs dutifully, staring him straight in the eyes. He’d be remiss in trying to lie to Hinata, after all. “Got a problem with that?”

It’s not like he wants to not go forward in his career. He will press on, as he always has. That was what was always at the forefront, but even so…

“No need to be so tough.” Hinata taps him on the nose. “I’m worried, too. If I’m not with you, who’ll remind you to take in the towels before it rains?”

“That was one time!”

“One time too many! I was shivering after my bath, Tobio, shivering!” Hinata quips. He leans into Kageyama’s side, hindering his ability to stir properly.

“I don’t know why you’re complaining, I’m the one who had to warm you up,” responds Kageyama drily. 

“A fair price, don’t you think?” Hinata shoots back, glimmering, hand resting on his chin.

This is what it means, in essence, to live life beside another human being. How integral Hinata has become in the manner he experiences his days. To be separated from him, Kageyama doesn’t doubt he’ll get through it, and, of course, it’s not like they won’t see each other, but there’s a small part of him (a part he doesn’t necessarily want to admit is there) that slouches, ugly and nervous, deep somewhere inside of him, that really doesn’t want Hinata to leave him.

It’s even more incentive to reach the top, to win and keep winning, to face him once more, to keep his attention on Kageyama until he draws his final breath.

If not for himself and his own personal satisfaction, he promised he would meet Hinata at the top -- no matter what it took to get there.

And Kageyama is a man who holds true to his convictions.

“The only reason they were out in the rain is because someone forgot about the laundry.”

“Can’t hear you, la la la,” Hinata sing-songs.

Kageyama sighs somewhat theatrically. “Get out of here, you,” he complains, shaking off Hinata. “Get some plates.”

“Only if you say the magic word.”

Levelling his gaze, Kageyama acquiesces. " Pleeeease, " he drawls on flatly, with as much of a deadpan expression as he can manage. 

Hinata blinks. “Oh, okay, I take it back!” He scuttles off to their cabinet to fetch the dishware. Kageyama would bop him on the head with the spatula if it was not coated in hot oil.

Stir fry is not a hard dish to make, nor does it take particularly long to create, although Kageyama prepares a sizeable portion for both him and Hinata. Some fifteen or so minutes later, the dish is plated and the two of them have said their thanks. They chat about innocuous things amicably as they eat, mostly focused on the meal.

Time that means nothing but that feels like everything is time spent with Hinata Shouyou.

He regales Kageyama with a tale about Sakusa and Miya in between bites of food -- even though he doesn't explicitly state it, Kageyama can tell he's going to miss his old teammates, and Kageyama will, as well.

Moving forward for him doesn't mean taking that next step without regrets, it simply means using those regrets as fuel for his inner fire. He won't say he regrets leaving the Adlers behind, nor does he think of them as a mere stepping stone to attain something even higher, but they all taught him things, new, important things, things about himself and volleyball. Most notably, though, they taught him the rush, the experience of incredible players all around him, people not only on his level but above it, people whom he scratched and scrabbled at the cliffside to get up to. People who didn't give him a chance to catch a breath, and he loved it.

One such is sitting right in front of him, a spot of sauce on his chin.

He, and the man before him, will chase that high until the day their bodies break down, and further beyond that.

"So, on the Tobio anxiety scale," Hinata starts as he nears the end of his food, "how are you feeling about moving to different countries?"

Different countries. It's a pang in his chest even now.

"Tobio anxiety scale?" 

"Yeah! Like…" Hinata lowers his hand beneath the table. "A one is something like, a practice match, and a ten," -- here he lifts the hand above his head -- "that first game against Tooru-san and Seijoh, all the way back in our first year."

Kageyama's eyebrows knit. "You think of that as the peak of my nerves?"

Hinata narrows his eyes and raises his brow, pointing his chopsticks at Kageyama. "You were pretty freaked out. It was the first thing that came to mind."

"So is the top of yours when you served into the back of my head?"

Kageyama is pretty sure he sees him actually shudder -- if nothing else, he physically recoils. "No! I had blocked that out of my memory! I thought it was water under the bridge now that we're dating!"

"It was never water under the bridge!"

"Don't make that face at me, Tobio!" Hinata wails dramatically. “Can’t you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

“Probably not.”

“Hey-- you’re dodging the question!” Hinata slams his fist down. “We’re talking! Serious talk for serious people.”

Kageyama sighs. “I’m not nervous,” he admits -- and he’s not. That’s not the right word to describe his incongruous feelings. Worried, perhaps, but not necessarily nervous. He’s not nervous for he and Hinata in their professional lives, he thinks they’ll do just fine, more than fine, in fact.

However, the protective feeling he has inside him, focused on Hinata that began to grow in their high school years, rears its head all the same.

They’ve been together too long for him to doubt the authenticity and intensity of how Hinata feels about that. He makes that well-known; it’s in his very nature to be bombastic and explosive. Kageyama doesn’t think he could hide his emotions if he tried. Whether he shows that in how he clings to Kageyama under their covers at night, or in the scatterbrained notes he leaves when he goes out while Kageyama is away, or protein drinks he makes and leaves in the fridge for him.

Hinata wanted him, over anyone else who would fall for that infectious personality of his. And that isn’t something he intends to take lightly. 

His trust, his enrapturement, his commitment, it feels wrong to doubt that.

So he doesn’t.

“I just won’t be used to it,” he finishes.

Hinata props his chin up on the balls of his hands. “You’ll miss me?” he asks from between squished up cheeks.

Kageyama bristles. “Well, obviously.”

And he will.

“Aw, Tobio, you’re a sap. All those reporters have the wrong idea of you.” Hinata’s hand snakes its way over to Kageyama’s chopstick-less one, stilled near the edge of his plate, and he threads his fingers into it. His gaze finds Kageyama’s with ease and he smiles lazily. “I’ll miss you, too. Lots and lots.”

It’s things like these, that he says so naturally, that amaze Kageyama.

“I’ll miss you more,” he says brilliantly.

“No, you won’t.” Not to be one-upped, Hinata’s eyes flash dangerously. “I’m gonna miss you so much, I’m gonna stream all your games.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, I’ll do that, and I’ll order one of your jerseys.”

“I’ll order two. "

“I’ll order three !" 

Things continue in this fashion for a while.

Hinata, convinced he has Kageyama beat (he doesn’t) by promising to buy every piece of Kageyama Tobio merch he can find (of which there is an egregious amount; it’s about as flattering as it is strange and embarrassing), says “well, speaking of which, I have an idea that’ll cheer you up.”

“Who says I need cheering up?” responds Kageyama, but he’s smiling now, just a touch.

“I say! And this isn’t a choice,” Hinata goes on. “I think before we move out, we have to go visit all the places we used to hang out! It can be like, an amusement park, but the park is Miyagi.”

“We’ve still got a couple of months.”

“Yeah, but I wanna go before we start getting stressed out about… boxes and moving.” Hinata stands up from the table and bends at the waist in a graceful bow. He looks at Kageyama through his fluttering eyelashes, one hand across his stomach, the other extended toward his boyfriend. “What do you say, my dear, are you free tomorrow night?” He says this so sweetly and exaggerated that Kageyama rolls his eyes affectionately.

“I am, and you know that.” The corner of his lip quirking up, Kageyama relinquishes his hand once more. Hinata pulls him up to his feet, positively beaming. Kageyama goes weak for that expression on his face; he can’t help it.

(Hinata makes it a lot.)

“What’s first, then?” he asks the other.

“That’s a secret, duh,” Hinata responds matter-of-factly. “You’ll have to wait and see!”

They say their thanks once more before cleaning up their dishes. Before they know it, evening turns to night and oranges fade to purples -- the glow on the grass outside goes from making each individual blade into the lick of a sunset flame to placating the dancing fire with soft indigo as the sun sinks. The moon climbs its way to the peak of the sky, slowly but steadily, not unlike the ascent of the two men who live below it.

Kageyama flips through a magazine absentmindedly as Hinata gets into his sleepwear and clambers over him onto the bed (their bed, by the by, has only its headrest against the wall, so crawling over him is wholly unnecessary), tucking himself into the sheets. He stretches, tensing up and letting it all dissipate, yawning afterwards.

“Our adventure starts tomorrow, you better rest up.” Kageyama puts his magazine to the bedside and rolls out a kink in his neck.

“You know it.”

He flicks off their light and Hinata snuggles up to him immediately. Kageyama rolls onto his side and Hinata’s head finds the crook of his neck (one would think the hair might be itchy, but it’s weirdly not) while he slings an arm over his boyfriend. His knees fit into the dips behind Kageyama's own, and he makes a breathy noise as he twists around a little, trying to get comfortable.

"G'night, Tobio," he murmurs drowsily against his back.

Shifting a tad closer to him, Kageyama replies quietly. "Night, Shou."

-

Perhaps Kageyama and Hinata would keep their relationship on the down low, if either of them were down low type of people.

Their friends know (and have apparently known for a while, much to their scandalized surprise), the media says what it wants, and the two have certainly implied more than once in various interviews that they live together. It’s not like they’re really attempting to hide much, but they still need to maintain a modicum of professionalism. And that includes dragging Hinata away when he’s about to say something a little too personal to a reporter.

What any old gossip magazine can’t get perfectly right, though, is what it’s like waking up a mess of limbs and blankets because Hinata can’t stay still to save his life, not even in rest.

And this has been their morning routine for the past few years.

When they go to bed at the same time, Kageyama usually wakes up a little earlier than Hinata. So he’s tasked with trying to detach himself from the various appendages wrapped around him. In some cases, he does it without waking the beast.

Other times, however…

“Tobi…” Hinata groans, roused, arms comfortably encircling Kageyama’s waist. “Noooo, stay,” he pleads. “You’re warmmmm.”

“I’ve got to get dressed,” resists Kageyama. Hinata lets out a disappointed noise, head buried in his back. Kageyama gingerly picks his arms off of himself and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. He climbs off, leaving a vaguely Hinata-shaped lump behind him as he plucks out a pair of exercise clothes.

Staying on the top of one’s game is just as important in the off-season as in the season itself. There’s no rest for the wicked, and he has to pay extreme mind to his exercise form and regimen. Training done incorrectly could completely dash his dreams, whether it result in an injury, or worse. So, he values consistency above all else when it comes to physicality.

This involves dragging himself away from his clingy boyfriend so he can eat and exercise, first thing in the morning.

Not the lifestyle suited for everyone, perhaps, but the one best fitted for him.

In the bathroom he dresses himself, combs his hair (it usually lies pretty flat regardless of what happens to it), and splashes water on his face to remove any sleep. By the time he returns to their bedroom, Hinata is upright and dressed, glaring at him.

“Wasn’t too hard, was it?” Kageyama asks.

"You," Hinata curses.

They go through this charade often.

After eating a hearty breakfast together, Hinata kisses him on the cheek and pushes him out the door.

Kageyama usually jogs to the gym for his cardio warmup before he dips into weight training. Luckily, they don’t live too far from one, and he gets there in about ten minutes. He checks in at the counter and heads toward the machines.

There’s a certain ambience to the gym that he’s always appreciated. Much of his early volleyball career, when he was a child, was spent in your typical gymnasium. It wasn’t until he grew a little older, into his high school years or so, that he began attending workout-oriented gyms such as this. Now, they’re his home away from home away from home, tertiary to the volleyball court and where he lives with Hinata.

The sound of metal clanging together from the machines, the comforting hum of treadmills in motion, the sharp, artificial smell of sanitizer and icy hot spray… it’s all so familiar, and in a way, calming, and constant.

In between reverse flyes, the ache in his traps starting to spread to and burn in his delts satisfyingly, his thoughts flicker to Hinata’s proposition the night prior.

Of course, he’ll miss not only Hinata and his friends; the geography of the place he’s lived for his entire life up until this point will be a sore spot in his heart, too. It’s not like he has never travelled -- the 2016 Olympics he participated in were held in Rio, but it’s not like he lived there beyond staying in a hotel.

Hinata’s brash and bullheaded, but inconsiderate he is not. He knows that Kageyama doesn’t have the same worldly experience as him (which isn’t saying much), and is likely trying to comfort him.

One last trip around their solar system, and off into a new, exciting galaxy for the both of them.

He feels a little unstoppable.

He comes home to an empty house and a cheery note on a plate with some eggs and rice from Hinata that says he’ll be back in an hour. He, of course, neglected to mention the time at which he left the house. Could’ve been five minutes ago, could have been fifty.

As he eats, Kageyama simply takes in the scenery.

He and Hinata live in a modest home -- neither of them need some grand abode. As far as houses go, it’s a little cluttered here and there, but mostly respectable. Like, he wouldn’t be ashamed to have his family over. Personal touches are up and about -- a blanket strewn over the couch from last week when Hinata wasn’t feeling well, some photos up here and there (some framed, some tacked haphazardly on; their various team photos are the former, some newspaper clippings about them the latter), mismatched furniture brought on by their own lack of desire to compromise for the other’s aesthetic sense, but all in all, it’s well put-together.

Kageyama won’t be living here this time next year.

The living room where he and Hinata sit together and watch TV, sometimes apart, sometimes cuddled up together. The kitchen where they cook for one another. The bathroom they get ready in. The bedroom they sleep in. Places he and Hinata have talked, laughed, touched, kissed, all in this one little home. Soon, it’ll be only a memory, but he feels like, right now, he’s looking at the walls for the first time. Like it’s 2018 again and he just walked through the door with Hinata, marking their brave step into a new world together.

It’s bittersweet, for sure.

Four years, nearly, of domestic not-so-bliss with his hurricane of a boyfriend.

Four years of early mornings and contemplative twilit evenings and arguments that went nowhere and charged competitions that ended in stalemates and have yet to be concluded. Four years in a house that doesn’t belong to his parents, or to himself, but to him and the man he’s come to love.

...He has so much work to do.

The door creaks, and Hinata steps in, his eyes flying open when he sees Kageyama sitting in the dining room, right in his field of vision. “Oh! Hey! Tobio! I’m home!” he exclaims stiltedly, flinging his shoes off and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Hey?” Kageyama answers. “Welcome back.”

“Fancy seeing you here,” he goes on, scooting past Kageyama with sweeping steps.

“I live here.”

“Is that right?” Airily, Hinata disappears into their bedroom, and Kageyama is left looking after him, mouth slightly parted with a furrow in his brow. When he returns, arms akimbo, he wears a juxtaposing confident expression. “How was your workout?”

Kageyama eyes him surreptitiously. “What was that about?”

“What about the what now? Anyway, did you see that guy who always looks like he’s trying to ask for your autograph but never actually does it?” Hinata continues, unfazed, hair a little windswept and cheeks aflush in pale pink.

“No, but that’s besides the point,” Kageyama replies as Hinata sits down in the chair adjacent to him, crossing his legs and plunking his elbow down on the table. “Why--”

“Did you enjoy the food? I made it with love,” he says, ignoring Kageyama.

“Yeah, it was good, thanks.” Sometimes, living with Hinata is easier if you don’t question every single weird thing he does, because he pulls something twice a day. Although he’s suspicious, he decides to let it slide for now. Maybe it has something to do with his wild date plans. “What were you doing?”

“Totally normal stuff,” Hinata says, totally normally. “Had plans to help out Yachi-san with something.”

“Oh?” Kageyama takes a sip of his water. “What did she need?”

“You ask so many questions, Tobio,” whines Hinata. “If you must know, I was helping her pick out some furniture for her apartment.”

“Was it all bright red?” Kageyama questions over the rim of his glass, looking off to the side.

“Our furniture looks great, I’ll have you know,” Hinata says indignantly. “But, no, it was black. She was trying to furnish her office.”

“And she trusted in your judgement?”

“You know, I don’t super love your tone right now.” Hinata leans more into his palm. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you?” Hinata gives him an incredulous look at the lilt in his voice. “I don’t see what that has to do with your shit furniture choices.”

“And yet look at our living room!” He stands and walks over to it, swinging his arms in a grandiose fashion. “The red is awesome!”

“If that’s what you want to believe.”

And yet, Kageyama has made no attempts to remove the clashing armchairs. It may look dumb, but something about it is still endearing. Mainly because he, very unfortunately, finds his commitment to his ideals cute, no matter the aesthetic disaster their living space has become.

“Well, thank you for giving me permission,” Hinata sniffs, the acrid tang of sarcasm in his voice about as noticeable as the scent of hot tar. “But now my business with Yachi-san is done, and I have other things to attend to.”

“Like?”

Hinata appears to short circuit.

“Exercising. I will go do that.”

He returns to their bedroom and Kageyama follows him with his eyes, finishing his water. Hinata’s usually a beautiful mess, but he seems even more of one than he expected today. He won’t push the matter, since Hinata seemed to be deflecting him and there’s some things that take time, as he’s learned, but maybe he was more anxious about their separation than he was letting on, and it was spilling out in his off behaviour.

Communication is key in all relationships -- that was the idea that had been rammed into his head over and over since he started high school. It was a gruelling lesson he’s still not finished taking yet, but Kageyama Tobio is not one to fold in the face of difficulty. Scraped and bruised, he rises to the occasion, for it’s in his very bones to do so.

If Hinata has a problem he’s not telling him about, he won’t simply let it go, but at the same time, he has trust in him that he won’t let it sit, either.

...Knowing who he is as a person, though, it’s only a matter of time before it comes gushing out.

-

“Are you ready for the experience of a lifetime, Tobio?”

Buttoning up his shirt to the collar, Hinata steps out of the bathroom. He looks rather dapper, in a tasteful silver button-up and black slacks. “Why are you dressed like that?” Kageyama asks, caught a little off-guard, as he adjusts his cuffs.

“It’s a date, duh. You’re supposed to look nice.” He spins in a circle. “Aren’t I the most handsome man you’ve ever seen?” He grins up at Kageyama, effervescent.

He does look unquestionably good. In Kageyama’s humble opinion, at least. His eyes sparkle under coiffed hair that he seems to have combed for once, and that assured smirk on his lips has made Kageyama’s heart skip a few beats in multiple situations.

(It doesn’t fail to do so now.)

“Yeah,” Kageyama says, struck, catching him on the shoulder.

Hinata beams up at him, and suddenly, he’s back on that winter night years ago, proud and aching, when Hinata stole all the oxygen from him like a ravenous fire, and told him he loved him as if he wasn’t the only person Kageyama was unable to, despite all his best efforts, keep out of his thoughts.

He smiles, and it’s that morning in their second year when he thought he fell in love.

He smiles, and it’s the aftermath of their final game of high school, sweaty and frustrated and clinging to each other like the world was going to end, when he knew he fell in love.

“Well, it’s no dress shirt, but it’ll do,” Hinata says, gripping the top of Kageyama’s unzipped sweater and pulling it toward him, like one would adjust a blazer. He pats him on the chest. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Are you ready for our first location?”

He still doesn’t get how Hinata can be that frank. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Cool, cool.” He puts on his own jacket, runs his fingers along his pocket lightly, and holds out his hand. “Shall we?”

Hinata grips his hand like a vice and leads him to the door. 

(Sometimes physical affection with Hinata is nice; sometimes it leads to cut off blood circulation. Really, it depends on the day.)

The breeze outside is chilly but not overly unpleasant, abated by their overwear. Spring is becoming more and more realized with every new day, and the vegetation has begun to reawaken from its winter-long slumber. Colours bloom from yawning greenery and tree branches sway with the life breathed into them, shedding their icy coats. Grey and white evenings have slipped into the cyan sky that stretches gleefully above them, excited that it finally gets to stretch its stiff body after falling out of season. Hinata lowers their hands to a more conservative position (Kageyama is glad he has the good graces to have a little shame when there are strangers out and about) but he doesn’t let go.

They talk like normal, but Hinata still seems a little keyed-up. He’s fidgety, and his eyes are darting around more than they ought to. “Is something up?” Kageyama asks, finally voicing his concern from earlier in the day.

“Uh, nothing but the sky!” Comes his all too quick response.

“That was lame and you know it.”

“No, it wasn’t! It was funny.” Hinata glances at him, then up at the sky, then to the sidewalk. Kageyama squeezes his hand.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?” Kageyama suggests, trying (somewhat successfully) to strike a proper balance between concern and authority. 

“Because nothing is wrong!”

Kageyama looks at him doubtfully.

After holding this gaze for a few heartbeats, Hinata sighs and averts his, essentially relenting. “Okay, okay, fine, jeez, you don’t have to glare at me like that.”

Kageyama was trying very hard not to glare.

“I’m nervous ‘cuz I thought you were all freaked out about moving countries, so I wanted to do this to, I dunno, cheer you up,” Hinata admits. “But now I’m thinking that seeing all of this might make you feel worse. Not, like, having second guesses or not going to Italy, just upset in the Tobio way, where you get all quiet and stuff. So if that’s gonna happen, tell me now, or else we’re gonna go see everywhere we used to visit.”

Without a single shred of sarcasm, Kageyama’s touched.

He had thought that maybe it was Hinata himself with the anxiety, but the fact that he was thinking about him, rather than his own apprehension, warms his chest against the spring chill. Hinata is honest and dedicated, all the way down to his hair follicles. 

“Well, nothing’s going to change my mind about Italy,” he tells him. “You don’t have to worry.”

“I-- I wasn’t worried about that!”

"And I don't think I was really that freaked out," he adds.

"No, you were,” Hinata objects. “Like you were talking in this clipped way, and when you were eating this morning, I saw you ate all the egg before the rice, when you usually eat from both at once, and you only do that when you're nervous, like when you took me out for our first anniversary."

Stupefied, Kageyama can only blink in response to that unexpected tirade.

"What?"

Hinata grins, a mischievous sparkle in those amber eyes of his. “What, what? You can’t expect me not to pick up on these things after all this time.”

Kageyama looks up at the pale sky, trying to remember his eating habits. Is that something he does? He can’t really remember the exact way he finished his meal that morning. Does he really have a particular way he chooses to eat, affected by his mood?

How is that something Hinata picked up on when he hadn’t realized it himself?

He is, so integrally, a part of him, in ways he couldn’t possibly notice, or even expect.

(And he keeps finding new ways to fall a little bit further in love with him.)

“Well, thanks, I guess,” responds a still dumbstruck Kageyama. Hinata only winks in place of a reply, then lets the gratitude hang in the crisp air like calm fairy lights, twinkling soothingly in the slowly, but surely, dimming light.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, in a warm and definite tone, his words laced with determination, and Kageyama knows he’s no longer talking about physical distance.

“You better not be.”

The dust, if any there ever was, settles innocuously as the pair fall into a companionable silence, simply enjoying being with each other. 

“And we’re here!” Hinata exclaims, letting go of Kageyama and stepping in front of him, throwing his arms up in the air in a presentative manner.

The sky has aged to a deeper, more mature blue in the time that it’s taken for them to walk from their home to Hinata’s first location. The building stands stark against the quaint evening, that which once seemed daunting and scary and new was now just that -- a building.

“It’s a gym.”

“Not just any gym--”

“--It’s where we first met,” Kageyama finishes.

Thrown off his rhythm, Hinata’s footsteps stutter a little. “Ah, good, you remember.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, moves them around, and smiles. “This is where you fell in love with me,” he sings wistfully.

“Huh?”

“That’s what you said,” says a contented Hinata, “when you told me you liked me.”

“I didn’t tell you I liked you, you kissed me.”

“Yes you did -- and you kissed me back!”

That he did.

Hinata hmphs, pulling his hands from his pockets and placing them instead on his hips. “Anyways, don’t think I forgot you said it was love at first sight. You’re embarrassing.” He cocks his head to indicate a direction of travel, and then starts toeing along. “I thought you were just some talented jerk.”

“And I thought you were just some over-confident asshole.” Kageyama falls into pace beside him.

"You were definitely worse. Boy, am I glad you grew out of that," Hinata reminisces. He reaches up and taps the top of Kageyama's head. "King."

The epithet is no longer a burden, the crown no longer a weight so crushing he had to hold his head high above all others to keep it from destroying him.

It's a title changed, remixed and renewed, by Karasuno, by Hinata, by those who refused to become his sycophant, by his own effort.

The presiding king no longer runs a dictatorship.

(He's still not too keen on the nickname, but it is Hinata, after all.)

"Like you can talk. You sucked so bad."

Hinata glares at him, miffed. "I thought you loved me!"

His words float in sentimental air, and Kageyama's mind turns back a decade, give or take.

There's no longer a spiffy, jacketed man in front of him, reasonable head of cropped, orange hair, walking with confident swank. In the blink of an eye, he's before someone all knees and elbows, jerky and sporadic, with a wild expression and emotive, unruly locks.

He's not an established professional athlete with the Olympics under his belt anymore, assured and safe and happy, he's his younger self, angry and alone, alive only by the fuel of his pure -- but misguided all the same -- passion.

Stepping back into that position is rather jarring.

He never quite realized that he had no one, until the one person he desperately needed crashed into his life.

And crashed, did he ever. Shouting and gangly, but with an unflappable determination that shook even Kageyama to his very core, stripped him, momentarily, of his robe and jewels, brought him back to grade two, where all he knew was that he hadn't lost yet, and that it’s the strong who stand on the court.

Maybe he didn't exactly fall in love with Hinata Shouyou that day, but he fell in something, something undefined and glorious, something threaded with uncertain desire, carefully woven with distinct surprise and a soft, sort of blooming confusion and unease.

"...Because I love you, I can say you were awful."

“Well!” Hinata looks away from him dramatically. “Not even you can talk bad about my skills, now. Not when I’ve beaten you,” he says, all proud.

Kageyama blinks. “I didn’t intend to. And, hey, don’t act like all you’ve done is beat me!”

“Can’t hear you over the sound of your ass getting whooped!”

Hinata dodges out of the way of Kageyama’s hand attempting to slam down on the top of his head. “Ah, but this brings back so many memories,” he continues quickly, not allowing Kageyama to get a word in edgewise. He smiles gently. “It’s been a long time, huh? Since we met.”

“Really long time.” Kageyama’s known him for a little less than half his life, and rationalizing that in his head is astounding. For so long, he’s walked alongside him, he’s ran, he’s plodded, by the side of another, and for a lot of it, he didn’t even realize that’s what he was doing.

He doesn’t think of it as something so romantic and fantastical, a story written in the stars and spelled with constellations -- Hinata just managed to match his mark. And, in turn, Kageyama reciprocated that same strength and diligence.

It wasn’t easy, but at the same time, he didn’t give it a second thought.

What started as being for volleyball became for Hinata.

(...and volleyball. The volleyball never went away. If anything, Hinata on his back only pushed him to higher plateaux, drove him to fight by the skin of his teeth against the man who went from rival, to teammate, to partner.)

“Crazy. Feels like it all went, gwah!" He gestures emphatically toward the sky. “Like that.”

Gwah, yes, naturally. “I hope you don’t have any regrets.”

“I can’t afford to.”

And they move forward, one step after another.

Even when a person trips, they still place a foot, albeit an unsteady one, on the ground.

“Good.”

“I’m happy I got to meet you,” Hinata says, low and honest. “There’s no one else I want to knock the smugness out of more.”

Lost in contemplation, chest a bit warm from the straightforwardness, it takes a moment for Kageyama to realize that Hinata isn’t beside him anymore; he’s about to reply with his own pithy remark when he notices this. He turns to find him framed by the sun in a bit of an awkward position, on his knees, fumbling with his jacket pocket. “Shou, what are you doing?” he asks, evidently startling the man on the ground, who jolts up.

“Nothing!" he shouts, jumping to his feet. "Nothing at all," he follows up, sounding a touch disheartened. "Just tying my shoes."

"Using your pockets?" questions an unconvinced Kageyama.

Appearing a bit red with… embarrassment, was it, Hinata takes Kageyama's hand and squeezes tight. There aren't many people circling the gym, so he isn't exactly being subtle, and holds him close in the warbling sunset.

"Has anyone ever told you that you think too much?" Hinata jokes. "I was tying my shoes and then was making sure the change hadn't dropped out of my pocket, that's all."

"Oh." The suspicion hadn't completely left Kageyama yet, but even so, that seemed pretty reasonable. Hinata's just weird -- he should be used to it.

"Oh? That's what you have, oh ?" He nudges Kageyama. "Tell me more about how cool I was."

"The opposite."

"I pulled that team together myself, okay, you big jerk?" Hinata mutters. “I didn’t have a powerhouse middle school.”

Kageyama sighs. “Tell me about it.”

“Okay. I rose up from the ashes, like a phoenix.” He makes a sweeping motion into the sky with his free arm. “And then, I was to beat the King of the Upper Court, but alas, fate was against me.” Now, he holds a fist to his chest. “Those days under his reign were not so sweet.”

“I didn’t mean literally,” huffs Kageyama, swatting at him with his own free hand.

“But, but, but-- as my King, he’s more bearable,” Hinata chirps.

Kageyama glances to the side, unwilling to fluster at that lukewarm statement. The longer he stays with Hinata, the more ways to embarrass him are revealed. “You’re cute. Get used to it already,” sniffs Hinata.

“So,” he digresses, “this is all you wanted to show me?”

“Whattya mean, all,” Hinata crows drily. “This is a very important place! Aren’t you having fun?”

“I mean, yeah." 

Whimsical blues have since begun to ombre into dreamy purples before and beyond them, sunlight wearily slinking down the gym's side after a long day hard at work. The evening is familiar and contented around them, and their footsteps are slow and relaxed. The sun goes down on their date, on another day of Kageyama and Hinata's life together.

"Well, good! Cuz we still have two more places to go, on our other dates. Not tonight, though." Hinata swings their hands about together back and forth. “You better have had fun,” he pouts, “or I’m gonna fight you.”

“You’d lose, don’t even try.” Kageyama squeezes his hand.

“You sound like you’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’, there, dear,” Hinata threatens, responding with the same action. He’s not really one for pet names, and when he throws them out, it’s usually as a jab. Kageyama is fine with that; Tobio is enough of a pet name for him any day of the week. He puts up his dukes with his one free hand. "Do you wanna go?"

Vaguely aware of the fact that there are people he can see in the distance, Kageyama's eyes narrow. "Ready when you are."

Hinata drops his hand and takes up a fighting stance, moving a couple paces back. He's smiling, that dangerous grin of his like electricity straight through Kageyama's soul. "Alright, I'm coming for ya!"

Then he charges forward and launches himself at Kageyama like a feral animal, arms outstretched and hungry, linking around his neck. They stumble back, a little unsteady with the impact, through the cheered grass.

"...This isn't a punch."

Kageyama gathers him up and his laugh bubbles out, arms secure, the rest of him limp like a bundle of ramen noodles -- decently heavy ramen noodles. He shifts his position, wrapping his legs around Kageyama’s torso as they spin in a little circle.

“Gotta keep ‘em on their toes,” he whisper-shouts, settling into place. “It’s the element of surprise!”

His hands find Kageyama’s cheeks and he pulls his face closer, pressing a chaste, smiling kiss to his lips. The breeze sings around them. “I wasn’t surprised,” Kageyama insists as he moves away.

“Well, good. Don’t be going soft on me now, Tobio,” Hinata croons, gleaming.

“Would I ever,” Kageyama mutters. “Do you plan on getting down from there any time soon?”

“You can’t walk like this?” The vestiges of sunlight glint and dance, playing softly on the edges of Hinata’s hair. The golden glow is almost as bright as his luminous eyes. “Shameful.” He pats Kageyama’s shoulders.

Ever pragmatic, Kageyama replies “depends on whether you want to be seen like this by strangers.”

Hinata makes a nondescript noise. “Maybe you have a point, but you’re wrong.”

“How can I be wrong while asking for your opinion?”

“You just are.”

Kageyama drops him.

-

"Wow!"

Hinata is standing in the entrance to the bathroom, eyes wide and mouth agape, one hand resting on the doorframe. He had slid into position, his socks skimming across floor, when he caught himself on the wood.

“What is it?” Kageyama asks, looking away from the mirror that he was fixing his hair in.

“You’re just really pretty. I mean cute. I mean handsome.” Hinata blinks at him. “Man!” He spins on a dime, as if unwilling or unable to look at him any longer. “How many gold medals did I win in a past life to live like this?”

Kageyama, flustering, puts down his arms. “Shut up,” he says, but it comes out weakly, with little fire.

“Never.” Hinata turns back around, smug.

Tonight, taking inspiration from Hinata’s effort on their prior date, he opted for a dress shirt himself and put a little more into his hairstyle than he usually does (he has yet to succumb to Miwa’s wishes of hairspray, or at the very least, gel. He ought to listen to her at some point, he nearly gave her a heart attack when she saw his haircut in his third year; he doesn’t quite know why). Hinata himself is in a similar get up. “Well, I’m not going to let you out-dress me,” he says.

Hinata sticks out his tongue. “Date two of three, are you ready?”

“Where are we going tonight?”

“Patience is a virtue! You’ll see!” He flips off the bathroom light, grabs Kageyama by his wrists, and leads him out, doing a small spin across their floor as he does so. They chaîné down the hall, Hinata’s gaze never once falling off of Kageyama.

“You have to have a focal point when you spin, or you’ll lose your balance,” he explains as they leave, fingers interlaced.

“I see.”

Dense white clouds populate a yellowish sky like dollops of vanilla ice cream, and there’s a much more biting chill than the night before, though Kageyama still wouldn’t describe the weather as being all too cold. Uncharacteristically quiet, Hinata skips along at his side, eyes on the horizon, as if he isn’t entirely present. His hand -- the one not in Kageyama’s -- is shoved so far in his pocket Kageyama worries he may rip the fabric with pure willpower.

A sense of déjà vu washes over him. He supposes that Hinata is, perhaps against his better judgement, still a little anxious.

Kageyama wishes there was more he could give to his boyfriend. A promise of stability, well-founded hope for the future, anything. He’s not one to stand and wax wistfully over what-ifs and possibilities, he chases what he wants and settles only for more than the greatest. Here, though, being the best partner is mired in a little more uncertainty than being the best setter. There’s less linearity, more openness, something that Kageyama is willing to admit he doesn’t excel in.

However, he has no intention of doing anything half-assed. Not in his career, and not in love.

So he tries.

“I’m fine, Tobio,” Hinata begins, as if sensing his apprehension by the way it coated the very air around them.

“I know,” Kageyama responds, grappling with an uncomfortable hopelessness that pulls open an empty hole in him. He fishes. “I love you.”

That, on the other hand, is something he can say to Hinata with pure honesty -- no matter how many times he does, or in however many contexts.

“I love you, too.”

Hinata smiles, and it’s alright.

“So, where do you think we’re going? I know I said it was a secret, but I want to hear your thoughts.” The vigor returns to his bouncy voice. “Keep in mind, it’s somewhere we went a lot."

“...School?”

“No, but close.”

“The gym.”

“That’s a little too close,” Hinata snorts.

“The Sakanoshita shop?”

“Dammit!”

Hinata glowers at the pavement, and it takes a second for Kageyama to realize he got it right on the money. He grins. “I win,” he points out, deepening Hinata’s sneer. “Hey, if you didn’t want me to guess, you shouldn’t have told me to! This is your fault.” 

“No, this is your fault… somehow,” objects Hinata. “You weren’t supposed to get it right, obviously! That’s part of the game!”

Kageyama rolls his eyes at the hypocrisy. “Whatever you say,” he replies flatly.

“You need to work on your sarcasm, Tobio,” Hinata says, mimicking his tone.

“Oh, shut your mouth, you.”

Things change, but just as many stay the same -- their spats are a perfect example of both. They never really stopped bickering, but something shifted, something clicked into place, and now they rarely step into true antagonism. The edges are rounded, fuzzy, and indistinct, bleeding over into affection.

The light conversation trails their journey to the store.

“Tada!” Hinata makes a dramatic show of presenting the dilapidated building. Perhaps that’s a touch rude; it’s far from falling apart, but it looks the same as Kageyama recalls from high school, in all its scuff and roughness and homeliness. It’s not like he hasn’t been here since graduated, he’s frequented many times, but it is undeniably tied to memories of aching lungs and tired muscles, high highs and low lows, the simple times and the complicated times, each year he spent with Karasuno.

The building’s sign smacks of nostalgia as the two enter.

“So, did you have a plan?” Kageyama asks.

“...Well, they still have meat buns, don’t they?”

The store’s inside is about the same temperature as outside, but something about the warm familiarity causes Kageyama to want to shed his jacket. As he concocts a response, Hinata’s attention is taken off of him and turns, instead, to the person manning the register. “Coach!” he calls, bright.

Kageyama trails after him. “Hey, kid, been a while,” Ukai replies mildly, pulling the cigarette betwixt his fingers away from his lips. “And you know you don’t have to call me Coach, right? I haven’t coached you in years.”

Defenseless in the face of such iron-wrought logic, Hinata sputters “but it just seems wrong to not call Coach Ukai… Coach Ukai!” He turns to Kageyama for support.

“Good evening, Ukai-san,” he says, employing that sarcasm Hinata seems so fond of. His boyfriend, clearly proud, reaches over and punches him in the arm.

“Still inseparable, huh, kid?” With a half-breath, half laugh, Ukai addresses Kageyama. “Well, I suppose I can’t really call either of ya ‘kid’ anymore. Not with those gold medals both you two wear.” He grins wickedly.

Hinata preens, flushed with satisfaction at the light praise. Kageyama can’t really hide his pride at the comment, either.

As far as he’s concerned, he hasn’t truly “made it.” He’s making it, present tense. 

(It being history, of course.)

“How are you two, then? Still getting along?” Ukai looks very pointedly at their jointed hands.

“As much as you can with Tobio,” Hinata titters. “He’s difficult.”

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you.”

“Glad to see you’re both doing well.” Ukai taps his cigarette on a tray, grey ash fluttering from the breathing red of its end. “How long have you been together, now? Ten years?”

“Four, actually,” Kageyama corrects.

“Nah, nah, I didn’t mean dating -- but four years, wow. Who could’ve seen that coming?” Ukai whistles. “I meant how long you two have been volleyball partners. You’re moving soon, right?”

“Oh! Yeah, we are,” Hinata pipes up. “That’s why we’re here. To visit our old haunts!”

“Well, I don’t mind the business, that’s for sure. Here, let me look at the two of you.” With some effort, Ukai uncrosses his legs and gets up out of his chair, leaning over the countertop with a keen eye. “You know, you two are a real pain in my ass -- we haven’t had a single boy since you started getting popular who hasn’t known who the freak duo were.” He sits back down, and his chair creaks quietly with his weight. “Sensei an’ I get a number with enough chutzpah to try and emulate ‘the Quick.’” He says this last bit with air quotes.

“Oo!” Hinata exclaims, stars for eyes. “Have any of them pulled it off?”

Kageyama, too, is quite intrigued.

“Are you kidding me? Ain’t no pair in the world who could pull off a jack move like that,” Ukai snickers, bemused. “Even that Miya Atsumu, when he played with you, Hinata, it was different.” He takes a drag of his cigarette while Hinata shoots his boyfriend a look he can’t really decipher.

“Well, uh, thank you,” Kageyama says, thinking it’s supposed to be a compliment. Ukai flicks his wrist.

“Either way,” he goes on, “good to see you two again. Since it’ll be a while, right?”

“You bet!” responds Hinata.

“I’ll be looking forward to the games. Now, get out, that customer looks like she’s waiting for you two.” Both of them turn on that (well, Kageyama turns; Hinata whirls) to face a woman smiling pleasantly, holding a few packages of food.

“Oh! Sorry!” Hinata apologizes, while Kageyama bows his head to her. She waves her free hand and says it’s not a big deal, while the two of them slink away to the aisles, hiding their shame in the shelves of junk food and various conveniences.

“I wonder if he’d let us into one of the practices,” Hinata whispers to him. The store isn’t so quiet Ukai would hear him if he were to speak up -- there’s the ambient chatter of the radio to contest with -- but he keeps his tone low nonetheless.

“Probably not. I don’t think that’s legal,” Kageyama says, narrowing his eyes at some juice boxes from a brand he doesn’t recognize.

“But, but! We’re, like, cool!”

Kageyama snorts.

“And, and, we’re -- famous.” He accompanies this with various emphatic hand gestures. “I think they would let us in. And I would be a great teacher.”

“We’d just teach?” questions Kageyama. “Not play?”

“...We can do both!” Hinata appraises him with a smile. “You probably wouldn’t be the best at teaching.”

“I bet I could do it better than you,” Kageyama retorts.

“No way.” Grabbing a fistful of drinkable yogurt off the shelf, Hinata glares at him in mock churlishness and thrusts them in his face. “I’ll wager.”

Kageyama rests his hand on the fist, smirking as he lowers it to make eye contact. “I accept.”

Hmphing, Hinata throws the yogurt back on the shelf (and then carefully readjusts it). He brings his face back, close. “You’re on, baby.”

Example two.

(It really shouldn’t send the jolt through him that it does.)

They settle on their staple meat buns, Kageyama hands over the yen (it was a long, arduous debate, with Hinata insisting he pay because he was the one who took Kageyama out, while Kageyama thinking responsibility fell to him for that exact reason. Ukai grew weary of listening to them), and they leave, eating. Hinata’s expression is still adorably scrunched up as he tucks in.

Since their foray began, the sky has deepened in hue, and now their footsteps toss up flecks of gold and red that disappear into creamy clouds. Grey memories stretch in front of them as pavement; the houses on the street lean and listen. Upset at having lost the debate but happy with his food, Hinata kicks his legs in his rhythmic pace, and Kageyama follows but a stride behind him, just to see him walk.

He’s been so prominent in Kageyama’s life for, just as Ukai said, ten or so years, four with greater intimacy. So, sometimes, it’s hard to imagine a time without his invigorating, all-consuming presence. 

Now, though, as he goes along, wrestling with cognitive dissonance, Kageyama recalls moonless nights of pained self-reflection and pressure that weighed heavier than the world and heat like bile in the back of his throat, rising as boiling water, at each face, each word, each touch and lingering glance and exhilarating play.

He has the man in his arms now. Against any odds, and fate -- or, perhaps, because of them.

(Perhaps, the universe was sleepy and contemplative and a little dreamy, when she made them.)

That’s how he knows, and he thinks Hinata knows, as well, that nothing is going to change between them. Some people, to whom they spoke, would knit their eyebrows or look to the side or otherwise offer their well-wishes for their long distance relationship, but those people weren’t Hinata and Kageyama, didn’t have the insight they did.

He was still trying to figure out how to win.

He’s not done falling in love.

Kageyama catches up with a quick step, slipping his hand into Hinata’s as he chews thoughtfully. Hinata blinks up at him, the slightest semblance of surprise bright in his eyes. He’s usually the one who initiates physical contact, especially outside of their home.

“I guess you can do this, once, Tobio. Pay, I mean,” Hinata says between bites of food. “But I’m paying for dinner after this.”

“After? Are we going somewhere else?”

Recognition dawns. “I mean, after all of this. You know, all. Not tonight! Just… later.”

Kageyama looks at him suspiciously. “Uh...huh.”

He averts his gaze and doesn’t elaborate, and Kageyama tries to figure a way to further the discussion. But Hinata simply keeps eating, effectively shutting off any meaningful communication between them, and Kageyama is left to fix his eyes on familiar sidewalks and nostalgic roads. They walk, presently, in that very same somewhat awkward silence, the young night sky as their witness as they finish their food.

He turns to his thoughts, but that’s when Hinata speaks up. “Tobio!” he starts out, oddly strong and loud. Kageyama nearly jumps at the sudden change in volume, and Hinata himself appears to wince at the sharpness of his word, but trucks on nevertheless. “I-- I have a question for you!"

"Shoot, then."

They come to an abrupt stop. "Oh, no, that's not what I wanted my legs to do," Hinata mumbles, half-audibly. "Ahem!" He pivots robotically, hands on his hips. "I have a question!"

"You've said that already." What has gotten into him? He usually only gets so janky as a nervous response, and there's nothing for him to be anxious about. At least, not at this present moment.

"Tobio, will you…" He trails off, then, and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Will you…"

"Will I what?" Kageyama can only handle watching him stumble for so long. "...Is this about the souvenirs again?"

"No! I mean, yes! I mean, maybe-sorta-kinda?"

Kageyama can only stare.

"Listen! It's a very important question!" Is it his imagination, or has Hinata gone a tad red in the cheeks? Is it perhaps the chill? "And it is, if you want to…”

“Spit it out.”

His expression shifts.

“I… forgot what I was going to say.”

He blinks up, blank, at Kageyama.

“Are you kidding me?” Kageyama blanches. All that build-up, for that climax? Hinata twitches in front of him, grabbing at locks of hair and pulling them down shamefully, like one would a hat. His already coloured cheeks darken, and he shakes his head back and forth.

“No! Ugh! You know when something’s really important, so that’s all you focus on, and you’re like don’t forget, brain, don’t forget , and then the important thing goes all woosh, and kablam right into the garbage!” He decides to pantomime his onomatopoeiae, and the motion he chooses for the kablam is a violent spike. “Anyway, that’s what happened, so don’t blame me. But it was really important." He puts his hands back in his pocket, then, and smiles broadly. “So when I remember, I’ll tell you.”

“...Okay?” Kageyama’s gaze flickers from Hinata’s face, to the lazy sky, to the street in front of them. He thrums his fingers on the seam of his pants, an antsy feeling of impatience and discomfort coating his lungs as he breathes in uncertain air. Again, he doesn’t want to doubt Hinata, but… “Shouyou, if… something is bothering you…”

“Woof! That’s how you know it’s serious.” At Kageyama’s perplexity, he continues, humoured. “I can’t remember the last time you called me Shouyou instead of just Shou. I’ve got goosebumps, here.”

“Oh, sorry?” Hinata laughs quietly at the correction. “I meant Shou.”

“I would tell you if something was bothering me, obviously,” he says, with finality to the statement, as if he was nailing a notice to the wall. “Mostly because you wouldn’t stop pestering me like that.” He shrugs, tipping his head to Kageyama’s shoulder. “You know that, right?”

“You better,” hums Kageyama. Tongue too big for his mouth, he responds with “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” There’s a bit of a hard edge to his voice, there, though nothing antagonistic. “Here.”

Looking more than meek but less than confident, he, again, offers his hand, low between their bodies.

Kageyama doesn’t think twice.

(He hasn’t for years.)

-

“Shou, this is illegal!”

“It is not illegal!”

“We’re breaking the law! That is… against the law!"

“Tobio,” Hinata says, his look of wild frenzy heightened only by the juxtaposition of the soft moonlight upon it. “I need you to trust me. Can you trust me?”

“I usually do,” Kageyama retaliates, resisting Hinata’s pull on his arms. “But not when it comes to breaking into our old high school!”

“We’re not breaking in, the gate is open!” Presently, he pushes on it -- it creaks far too loudly, though it is unknown whether it’s because it needs to be greased, or if the world around it is too quiet to bear its burden.

“That’s worse!"

“Tobi, Tobi, shh.” Stubborn, Hinata puts all his muscle into trying to drag Kageyama into the fray. “I would never try to get you arrested on purpose. I obviously got permission to come here.”

Kageyama looks at him dubiously. “Did you really?”

“Would I lie to you?”

“Is there a correct answer to that?”

Hinata gasps. “You’re so mean! I would never!”

He finally wins the game of tug of war, dragging Kageyama into the campus. “Can’t we just walk around the outside, like we did with the gym?” suggests the left brain.

“This is more fun,” says his right brain. “Besides! This is important! This is where, you know, it all started!” Hinata lets go of Kageyama and spins around, arms out. “Of course we had to visit!”

“And we couldn’t have done that during the day?” Kageyama says dully. “Like, you know, the teaching thing?”

“Nope!” Hinata chirps. “We gotta be alone.”

“Why ?"

“Just ‘cuz.” Kageyama sighs, but doesn’t see the rationale in fighting against his brilliant logic. Relenting (though not without dour consideration), he follows Hinata to his adolescence.

Many reporters and interviewers have asked about his high school days, in no small part due to the fame of the so-called Monster Generation. How did you train, what was so-and-so like as an ally or as an adversary, is there anything you would do differently, knowing where you end up, etcetera and etcetera.

(Kageyama resents that last one; he knows they mean nothing by it, but it made it seem as if what he did in his younger years was insignificant, where he was now, a luck of the draw. That wasn’t the case; he was always training, always had his eye on the future. Each part was a puzzle piece placed with care that built the bigger picture. What he did now and what he did then vary less than he was expecting.)

Contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t actually spend a good amount of time reminiscing over attending Karasuno. He has other responsibilities to attend to, greater heights to scrabble for. He doesn’t slow down -- he simply cannot afford to.

But there’s no question that the breeze here is younger, and he, too, feels almost swept away, back in black, dressed to the nines (figuratively and literally), in the middle of Karasuno’s gym.

Back where he met Hinata proper. Back where he learned how to be himself, for others. Back where he flew among his murder.

It’s nostalgic, sure, but he feels no regret, no yearning for a time long past.

A part of him it is, and a part of him it will remain, but all things end, all books are closed some day.

He is not afraid.

“Our location for our final date is… drumroll please!”

Hinata looks to him expectantly. In response, he drums on one of his legs, and Hinata’s face lights up in a way that makes the silly action worth it. “Karasuno High School Gym!”

“Don’t shout, we’re here illegally.”

“I told you, we’re here legally, it’s fine.” Hinata looks thoughtful. “Or, we’re here at least semi-legally.”

“Yeah, like that’s comforting.”

The building hasn’t changed -- Kageyama hadn’t had any expectations for its appearance, but it’s surprising either way. “And now, for the pièce de résistance…” 

From one pocket, he produces a key. “Where did you get that?” Kageyama questions.

“I have associates, I told you,” he hums. At the still doubtful look gracing Kageyama’s face, he approaches him and sticks his hands onto his cheek, squeezing his face. “It’ll be ruined if you’re all tense, come on, I know the glare is like, your thing, but it’s gonna be fun.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can let go.”

“Not until you smile.”

Kageyama huffs and acquiesces wanly, but grabs Hinata’s wrists and moves them away himself.

After a brief offended look, Hinata turns to gym door and makes a show of sliding the key into the lock. Then, with complete reckless abandon, throws it open, any pretense of subtlety forgone. “Let’s go!”

He leaps into the gymnasium without giving Kageyama a chance to catch him, and he strides in after.

Dust pirouettes through dusky browns and moonlight shimmers in silvery, playful waves upon it. It’s late enough that any well-meaning high schooler staying late for a club will have already left, but he still has an uneasy sense, like he’ll be caught at any moment. His careful footsteps bounce off the climbing walls, contradicting Hinata’s excited tip-taps as he runs in.

“It even smells the same!” he murmurs dreamily.

It does.

“Did you happen to get the key for storage?” asks Kageyama mildly.

“Is volleyball the only thing you think about?” japes Hinata. “ ...No. I couldn’t get it. They said I’d make a mess.”

Kageyama can’t help feeling a little disappointed, really. “That’s too bad.”

Hinata pads further in, holding his arms out as if he were atop a tightrope. It’s a perfectly childish gesture, one befitting the room they’re in. He fits, there, in the shadows of their memories, a bright pillar against the dark, aching walls, a spark of fire in the night.

It reminds Kageyama, softly and quietly, how all of this began.

“Hey, Tobio, what was your favourite part about being at Karasuno?” Hinata asks. “And you can’t say it was meeting me.”

“This isn’t where we met,” Kageyama reminds him. “We already went to the gym.”

Hinata makes a frustrated noise, though he doesn’t appear to be actually upset. “Meeting me properly, then. You know, learning my name, like an actual person.”

Ignoring that, Kageyama ponders the question.

As when any person grows up, there are ups, and there are downs. A tournament can be a rollercoaster of these, breathless highs that the team soars into, muddied after being dragged through the dirt in their lowest moments. That chaos, that wild uncertainty, the struggle to keep favour, to persevere, to win, bloodied and beaten, is what he loves about the game. To conduct as the setter, to have that shaken court as his domain, his battleground, to direct that anarchy, gives him a thrill through his entire body like no other.

There was pain, oh, God, was there pain.

But it was always outweighed -- or at least balanced -- by joy, experienced by not just him, but his entire team, breathing in the bright, sparkling energy, triumph made all the more sweet by their utter exhaustion.

This feeling never really went away, it rarely ebbed, in actuality. That simple concept of anyone being able to win. The fact that whomever let the ball drop lost. That was volleyball, in essence, in all of its excitement and turbulence, and what drew him in further.

So, really, he could pinpoint any of those many moments at Karasuno as his favourite. It wasn’t that they melted together and he couldn’t pick one out, rather, it was that they all inspired that same fiery passion, that distinctive yearning, rattling deep and primal within his very bones.

“I don’t really have one,” is what he settles on. “Any time we were playing, I was having a good time.”

“Very Tobio of you,” Hinata snickers.

“Our last Nationals, I guess. That was the furthest we ever got,” Kageyama reckons. “I wish we could have gone further. I wanted to.”

“Me too. But… were you angry about where we ended up?”

“At the time.”

“I was, too.”

Hinata walks back to him, and comes to a stop at his side. “I’m still grateful, though.” He tilts his head up at Kageyama. “I think my favourite time was when it rained for, like, a week straight, and when Tsukishima was being dramatic he left the gym and slipped in the mud, then Yamaguchi had to help him while he pretended that nothing is wrong, I’m fine the whole time.”

Kageyama grabs at his hair. “I thought you were going to be serious.”

“I am being serious! Wasn’t that great?”

“It was, but that’s besides the point.”

“He got mud on his glasses. He tried to put them back on and be all cool but he couldn’t see!” Hinata scrunches up his face. " Stop looking at me, Hinata, you’re throwing salt in the wound. Serves him right.”

Kageyama smiles a little, at his boyfriend’s pure glee recalling the schadenfreude. “Or when we had that group sleepover at Ennoshita’s house and Tanaka-san got Sprite everywhere, or when Seiya and Kurahara tried to prank us by hiding the nets and Coach and Sensei got really mad, or every time I got affectionate and you got all embarrassed.” As he says this last bit, he sidles up to Kageyama and grins knowingly. “You were cute.”

“You were a nightmare.”

“A nightmare you couldn’t wake up from,” Hinata boasts, his eyes flashing. “Wait, was that an insult? Tobio!”

“How is that my fault? You walked straight into that one.”

“Dummy,” Hinata sighs. “Here, come with me a sec.”

He seizes Kageyama by the wrists and pulls him further into the gymnasium. They interrupt the shafts of wavering light as they stumble together. “What are you doing?” Kageyama questions, Hinata standing opposite to him, a good deal of space between them as his arms are fully outstretched.

"Just because we can't play doesn't mean we can't do anything," he reasons. “Come on, Tobio! We don’t have that much time before we have to leave each other, and, and,” he exclaims, exasperated, shaking Kageyama vigorously, “I just want to do fun things together before we move because… Well, it’s gonna be a long time apart and it’s not like I don’t trust you or whatever, but I really am gonna miss you.”

He looks up, shining and earnest.

Both of them have grown, both of them have come into their own, become new people, in subtle ways and in larger ones, but that expression is still the same as it was all those years ago.

His passion -- whether that be for volleyball, for Kageyama, or rather simply for life -- never faded.

“Well, what do you want to do, then?” asks Kageyama. “I thought we were already having fun.”

“We are! We broke into our high school gym--”

“--I thought you had permission.”

“Details, details, and look at us! We’re just hanging out in the middle of the night!”

It’s a little after nine. 

Hinata steps a mite closer to him, letting go of one hand and allowing it to drop lower, to his hipbone, where it rests gently. “You promise,” he begins, low and vulnerable in a way Kageyama wasn’t expecting -- husky, almost, “that you won’t let anyone else defeat you, before we meet again?”

He rests his head on Kageyama’s shoulder, and with no where else for it to go, Kageyama brings up his hand near his scapula. He hums shortly, and the sound reverberates through Kageyama’s entire body.

“That’s a given,” he replies in turn.

Hinata’s heartbeat pulses in Kageyama’s head.

On the court, Kageyama’s being, his physical and mental spirit, syncs with every single other person playing. Not just his own teammates, with whom he must be perfectly in tune with, but with his opponents. He has to be cognizant and paying attention to every body, lest the control of the game slip from his grasp.

He has that same heightened state of awareness, that same sense of roaring blood in his veins, standing here on the concrete from which they grew.

Standing here with Hinata, he’s impossibly present.

He won’t slip away. He won’t leave. But he holds him like he will, all the same.

Hinata holds their hands -- that which are still interlocked -- higher, and angles his so that it’s above Kageyama’s. From there, he smooths his thumb over the edge of Kageyama’s hand, from his wrist up his own thumb. The careful, teasing motion over his skin makes his heart swirl into his throat a little.

How did he get here?

“Good.”

They stay like that. 

It’s a tad weird, Kageyama thinks, being in this position in the location that they were, in the circumstances they had, but like Hell he’s going to move away first. What they’re doing doesn’t seem particularly active, like he thought Hinata was partial to, but just being still together is… Well, it’s kind of nice.

Hinata suddenly drops his arm, and instead puts it around his waist. He tightens his grasp, so that he’s hugging Kageyama’s torso, reticent to move away. “Tobio, I remember what I was going to ask you.”

“What?”

“Last night, I said I had something important to say.”

Kageyama’s heart picks up, and he doesn’t exactly know why. “What is it?”

“Hmm…”

He waits as Hinata shifts his head, resting his cheek more comfortably on Kageyama’s shoulder, his face turned toward his neck. The ensuing silence, which spans only a few, painstaking moments, is palpable. 

“Do you wanna marry me?”

“...Heh?”

“I love you. Like, a whole lot. I wanna marry you.”

It comes much like the way black water slicks clothes to one’s skin -- creepingly, then with an all-engulfing shock that resonates in each cell of his body. Hinata’s warmth had lulled him into an almost sleepy, longing sense, stable and comfortable despite his awareness of Hinata's rising chest, his beating heart, his determination that always crashes off of him in waves.

Nevertheless, even though he hears Hinata's words, loud and clear, they hardly register.

Do you wanna marry me? 

I wanna marry you.

His brain puts the pieces together.

...Shou wants to marry me.

(Brilliant deduction, Holmes.)

“Are you being serious?”

"Yes, obviously." Hinata says this part quickly -- Kageyama can hear the beginnings of panic slip into his voice, but he stays in place. "One hundred percent. I want to marry you."

Kageyama doesn't answer.

More than a decade's worth of time has passed between him meeting his very own piece of the sun and now. Days, weeks, months and years spent warming his hands by its surface, learning what made it glow and dim, burning his fingertips on the licking flames. Learning how to treat it, what to teach it, what it could teach him.

No one can quite handle the sun, in all its erraticism and fire, but he’s spent too long with it to not pick up a few pointers.

Ten years that started with tear-filled declarations of victory and trailing agonies and breaking down all the walls Kageyama had built up for himself, ten years of growth and experience and being at Hinata’s side, ten years that came to their dénouement with--

Wait, could this be considered a dénouement?

This wasn’t their soft epilogue, the wrapping up of their lives. It was the opposite, a promise of continuation. Their story was still being written, penned by their own stubborn hands, into infinity and what may lie beyond that. The idea of, well, not being in a relationship with Hinata had never crossed his mind as a viable option.

Life together just seemed to be the norm.

Marriage, though, wasn’t even something he actively thought about. The Tanakas had gotten married pretty early in their adulthood, and since, none of his old teammates, despite having relationships of their own, have pursued that for themselves. He’s seen wedding photos and attended ceremonies in his life, and sure, perhaps he’s fancied the idea from time to time, during quiet stretches in the night, closer to another human being than he ever could have dreamt of, thinking assuredly that this is the person whom he’d be okay spending the rest of his life with.

And in being two men in Japan, that hadn’t exactly been a possibility until recently, and even now carried with it a lilt of uncertainty.

All he knew was that he wasn’t leaving Hinata’s side.

Was this how he wanted to do it?

His reply (the lack thereof) causes Hinata to squirm against him. “Is that a no?”

“No, it’s not-- a no,” Kageyama sputters.

He wonders if he could possibly answer this in any other way.

“Then is it a yes?” Hinata steps back to eye him.

It takes an embarrassingly long time for Kageyama to realize how flustered he is, overwhelmed with memories and emotion and prickling red that steals across his entire face. “Sure? I mean, yes, I will, I mean-- shit, Shou, I just got proposed to!”

“I know!” Hinata shouts back, his wide smile stretched by his nerves. “I was there! Gimme a straight answer!”

“Yes! I’ll marry you! Duh!”

“Jeez, Tobio, you really need to learn to get to the point faster,” Hinata says, spinning around to look in the opposite direction. He fiddles with something in his pocket, and before Kageyama knows it, something hits him, smack-dab between his eyes.

“Ow,” he bites, looking down at what fell from his face to his hands -- a small box.

“Do you have any idea, Tobio? I’ve been trying to propose to you for the past three days, and every time, you turned around too fast, or you ruined the mood in some way, and I had this whole elaborate plan for tonight, it was gonna blow your stupid mind, but then you had to get in my way by being so… dumb! And smelling so nice! And being so warm! I guess this is one way to do it-- are you crying?"

Hinata cuts himself off, his rant severed by concern.

“You-- you just hit me in the face!” Kageyama yells, more incredulous and scandalized than he’s ever been. His eyes burn. “Those corners are sharp!”

“It’s the ring, I couldn’t exactly get down when you were hugging me!” Hinata throws his arms in the air. Eyebrows knit, Kageyama pops the box open, and sure enough, a simple silver band with a small, whitish gem sparkling in the centre awaits his eyes. He stares at it in unadulterated wonder. “Yachi-san helped pick it out, so it’s really good.”

“You… really want to marry me?” he repeats in a near-whisper, half to himself.

“I already said that!” Hinata walks back up to him, gently takes the ring box from his hand, and removes it. From there, he takes Kageyama’s stunned hand and slips the band onto his finger. The metal feels cool against his warm skin. “Yes, I’m gonna marry you, and then if I die, I’m gonna reincarnate and marry you again. Okay?”

Kageyama’s still half in his stupor.

Hinata loves him. He wants him, and that excites him to his very core.

“Okay,” he replies numbly. He shakes himself, and looks into Hinata. “I love you a lot, too. I want to spend my life with you.”

Hinata’s eyes widen. Then, distressingly, they shine with the beginnings of tears, and Kageyama shoves the ring box into his own pocket while his boyfriend -- fiancé -- looks aside. “What?”

“You can’t just say things like that!”

“You just asked me to marry you!”

“Yeah, but still!” Hinata throws himself at Kageyama, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing him tight. “I love you more,” he mumbles into Kageyama’s shirt. “You’re my dream man.”

Kageyama can’t exactly describe the feeling that permeates through his chest. Something fuzzy, undefined while still being oddly assured, that makes him feel bigger than he is. Like he can’t be stopped, riding on a wave of unmatched confidence, head peaking from the clouds. Like he’s above the realm he presides in, an outsider looking in, without anyone to touch him. Like he’s just won a tournament, proved himself to the world, to himself, to everyone.

Invincible.

He rests his chin on Hinata’s head, returning the embrace, smiling a fond smile Hinata can’t see.

He doesn’t feel as different as maybe he should, just having pledged part of him to another. Not his entirety, mind you, but so much of him. That which he hasn’t allocated to his other love, the sport which he’s been wrapped up in since he was old enough to walk, has been taken by Hinata -- he didn’t give it to him, he stole it away, indiscriminately and without his permission, since the day he first fell.

“...I’m going to have to take this off when I play.” That’s the best he can come up with to describe what he’s going through.

“Obviously, that’s why we got a simple one.”

“So, were you lying about going furniture shopping with Yachi?”

“People can multitask.”

Kageyama never knew that smiling could make you ache. Hinata draws away. “We should get going,” he reasons. “I want to go home, with my fiancé,” he says, adorably proud of himself. “I proposed to you! I win this time,” he gloats.

“Shit-- wait, no, this isn’t over!” In his realization that Hinata has managed to one-up him, he points an accusatory finger.

“How do you expect to one up that?!”

“I-- I can think of a few things.”

Challenge sparks in Hinata’s gaze. “Really, now? Show me what you’re made of, Tobio.”

Time blurs, a little, Hinata hanging off of his arm as they deke out of Karasuno’s campus. As they close in on their house, Hinata clambers up his body and into his arms, satisfied to be carried in through their door by him, grinning in a way that makes him hard to refuse. It does, however, make it a little bit of a struggle to unlock their door, but Kageyama isn’t one to back down so easily.

He who was once afraid to play the role of Icarus holds the Sun to his chest, delirious as he walks through what may very well be a dream, but is reminded it’s not, if only by the warmth and the heartbeat of his melted wings, wax dripped assuredly, deftly around his neck.

Kageyama pulls him in tight to him, pulls in his partner, in life, in love, in volleyball, pulls in his kryptonite, pulls in the man who made him feel so invincible.

Soon, they’ll be apart. Tonight, however, they’re far from that, and Kageyama is going to memorize each and every line of Hinata Shouyou.

The house seems to warp and transmogrify in his high, as one moment he’s downstairs, and in the next, they’re before their bedroom door, and Kageyama hardly knows how the two of them got there, but Hell, he’s not complaining.

Before he knows it -- as if the film is skipping, his mind still rewinding the night’s tape in its surprise and confusion -- there’s a body below his, a mouth on his, a heart that’s not his own but may as well be. He has no time to think of other things, not a second to be spent with his head in the clouds; Hinata has always demanded all his attention, and has never settled for less. One thing he knows for certain is that he's become less and less adept at refusing his boyfriend, not that he minds, not right now.

He's a king, Hinata has crowned him as such, and he conquers.

Kageyama gives him everything he is, everything he was, and everything he will be.

-

He wakes up to a plethora of congratulatory messages. 

Yachi's is only vaguely coherent, more emoji than Japanese, but he thinks it's positive. Tsukishima remarks simply that he refuses to cross borders to attend the wedding. Miya pithily tells him that it took him long enough.

Bokuto's is a voicemail. He screams for about two minutes before getting distracted and hanging up.

Hinata is, irregularly, not next to him, and he picks himself up into a sitting position alone. Their bedroom feels off, and the light that shines through the window is different in its very essence. The sun rises and the sky comes to life on the first day of his engagement.

Overwhelmed, he starts responding to the messages, one by one. Everyone from former teammates to people he played against in high school to even people like Ukai, who left a dry, but heartfelt all the same voicemail. How did they all know? Did Hinata tell them all? How many contacts does he have?

Just as he thinks he’ll get a break, resting his phone against his knee, it starts to buzz with a call.

He checks the caller ID before picking it up, and presses the phone to his ear, befuddled and still cloaked in the mist of last night’s daze. “Nee-san? What is it?”

“Hi, Tobio,” crackles his sister’s voice. “Shouyou-kun sent me a message and said you had news to share?”

The times Hinata chooses to have tact are few and far between, but never cease to confuse Kageyama. He doesn’t know if he would prefer the alternative of Hinata just telling Miwa about the engagement himself. “...You’re not sick, are you?” comes her hesitant follow-up when Kageyama’s misgivings catch his tongue.

“What? No. I’m getting married.” The quicker the better, he thinks.

There’s silence over the line.

“To Shouyou-kun?”

“Who else?” With great interest, he twists and untwists his ankles together, watching how every muscle flexes and shifts.

Another pause. “Wow. I mean, congratulations, Tobio, this is huge,” she continues, obviously taken aback. “I never took you as the type to settle down, at least, not before me.”

“We’re not settling down, we’re about to move.”

“It’s a turn of phrase,” responds Miwa drily, but not unkindly. “Wow! Married!” she repeats, this time with a bit more wonder, then lets that exclamation hang for a few seconds. “When are you two thinking of tying the knot?

“...We don’t know,” Kageyama says, honestly. 

“Really? Well, I guess that’s fine. Are you thinking of doing it out of the country?”

“Depends.” 

Truly, it wasn’t as if they were flying by the seat of their pants, or anything, it’s just that they hadn’t planned much ahead. Both of them chose to face solely what was in front of them -- they may lose their footing should they look too far ahead, and may similarly trip over their own feet if they only look to the past.

Hinata isn’t easy. He never has been, and likely never will be.

But even with that, it was almost like this was a natural progression of everything their relationship stood for. It fell into place with unprecedented, almost scary grace -- Hinata and Kageyama, Olympic volleyball players, married couple. Of course, had someone told 15-year-old Kageyama Tobio, fresh out of Kitagawa Daiichi, that some ten odd years in the future, he’d be agreeing to marry Hinata Shouyou, certified mess and bane of his earlier existence, he probably would have spiked a volleyball into their face. Not with malicious intent, but out of utter astonishment and disbelief. Scandalized, one would say.

So, it didn’t really matter when they got married. Because to him, everything could stay the same. Nothing would happen to them -- whatever they were, an ecstatic mix of love and trust and competition that had become his every day.

The ring on his finger is nothing more than quiet reciprocation of that same progression.

“Depends, really. Well, let me know if it is, I can’t really drop everything to go to Italy,” Miwa laughs softly. “...That is, if you want me to come.”

“Why wouldn’t I want you to come? You’re my sister.”

They had been… trying.

After Hinata came back from Brazil and his team played the Adlers, Miwa had called and they met up for the first time in… he doesn’t want to say years, but it had definitely been months since they’d seen each other in person. Without the buffer of living in the same house, he had his life, she had hers. Their relationship aged as they did, but instead of improving like wine, it went more like paint on an abandoned house, peeled and chipped with each wind, each change of season, each rain.

It had started with an apology, and then, from there, they tried to work their way back.

It wasn’t the same. It couldn’t ever be, but they were trying.

Kageyama never hated his sister, far from it, and he never wanted to blame her. But her lack of presence left some type of hole that wasn’t so easy to mend, a hole filled with the unconditional love and support he had to let himself accept from Karasuno. Maybe he was angry with her, once, but it was in futility, and it was never because of her -- she was a patsy for the unfair world.

He missed her.

“...I see. I’m glad.” Kageyama can’t see her face, but it surely lights up. “Grandpa would be really proud.” 

“Huh?”

“You heard me, didn’t you?” Miwa goes on. “I don’t think you got it, because you were still just a kid, but all he really wanted was for you to be happy. Which… you are, right?”

There’s something hanging on the wall. It’s a newspaper clipping, dated years ago now, which details the tête-à-tête between members of the Monster Generation -- the game between the Jackals and Adlers. Hinata was so elated when he first saw it that he decided to frame it immediately, to keep forever the memory of his victory present, lest it (God forbid) be lost to time.

It regards him from above the dresser.

Kageyama was thirteen years old when he became aware that the people he loved wouldn’t be around forever. Death is something that always seems to happen to someone else, to be the problem of somebody else's family, until it isn’t.

Kageyama was thirteen years old when the world dimmed a good deal of watts, revealing cracks and splinters in the façade which hadn’t been previously visible, washed out by the lights. He was thirteen years old when his mind focused in on the most important words his grandfather ever told him: that one day, he’ll find someone even better. He was thirteen years old when this thought consumed him, was the accelerant that kept his heart aflame, the fuel behind each toss, serve, and spike, warped him into the antagonist of his team, desperate to find someone willing and ready to match him.

Kageyama was fourteen years old when the light came back.

“I guess,” he replies evenly.

“Well, that’s good enough for me,” Miwa concedes. “So? How’re you feeling? How’s Shouyou-kun? Have you told Mom and Dad?"

“...No, I haven’t.” Kageyama’s relationship with their parents is a bit more tumultuous than the one he shares with her, and that’s saying something. He doesn’t really have the time to bear ill will toward them, nor does he want to, but the unsettling part is that… well, they feel more like acquaintances than anything. They’re not bad people, he doesn’t think, and he doesn’t feel unloved.

Maybe just not loved enough.

They know about his relationship with Hinata, if they had a problem with it, they kept quiet. But it wasn’t as if they were his first choice to give the news to.

“Ugh. Whenever they call, all they ask about is when Daisuke and I are going to married.” The annoyance in Miwa’s voice is clear. “Like it’s a crime I’m so old and haven’t gotten hitched.”

“...Are you getting married?”

“Not you, too,” she groans. “Some time, maybe never.” There’s a pause, and Kageyama hears some rustling over the phone. “Ah, I’ve got to get ready for work, but we should go out to celebrate soon. I’ll treat you.”

“Okay,” Kageyama responds.

“Tell Shouyou-kun my congrats, too, okay? He’s a lucky man,” she goes on. “Bye, Tobio.”

“Bye, Nee-san.”

He puts down his phone and finds himself smiling. 

“That was Miwa-san? Why didn’t you let me talk to her?” Hinata apparates at the doorframe, blanket around his shoulders, and a mug held gently in both hands. He ambles over.

“You were downstairs,” Kageyama says as Hinata settles down on the bed next to him, taking a sip of his drink. He knocks his arm.

“Blah. What did she say?”

“As if you don’t know.” Hinata smirks over the rim. “She said congratulations.”

“Woohoo,” he cheers softly. He seems a little quieter this morning -- Kageyama finds himself wondering if he purposefully pulled himself out of bed earlier to make a dramatic reappearance after the call, and is a bit hazy as a result. His head falls a little, onto Kageyama’s shoulder. “Congratulations!” he breathes. “We’re getting married, Tobio! We’re gonna be married ! You’re my pre-husband! That’s so cool!”

He prattles on, and Kageyama sees that Miwa was right.

“Let’s take each other’s last names!”

“That would screw up our jerseys.”

“Oh, you’re right. Let’s not do that.” Hinata hums his approval. “What if we switched teams, then we just switched jerseys?”

“Your jersey wouldn’t fit me.”

“Hey!” Hinata exclaims. “...It's not like I could wear yours either, you freak of nature."

“Hey,” Kageyama says, still a little groggy.

It’s just like he thought -- nothing has shifted in the way they communicated, even with the ring around his finger.

But when it came to the love between them, it’s not as if what they had was stagnant, them clinging to some feeling from years ago.

Their love wasn’t -- and would never be -- one and done. It is not the same now as it was when they started dating, nor was it the same as when Kageyama first realized just how deeply he had fallen. Love was to be remade, to persist in essence and rebuilt with each touch, each word, each promise of “I love you” and “I always will.”

They took with grace this idea, and never looked back again, creating their love, in all its uniqueness and with all its struggles. Together, they sat atop their empire -- no, that’s not quite right, they did not sit, they worked tirelessly.

To remake. To rebuild. Perchance, to love.

Kageyama is willing to do it as many times as it takes, for him.

“It’s gonna be great, Tobio, we’re going to be awesome,” Hinata goes on.

And in their warm domesticity, in the bed where they’ve slept together and remade that very same love time and time again, in the bedroom that’s so much more than just where the two rest, in the house that’s become his home, Kageyama knows, just as well as he knows how to breathe, how to walk, how to play, that he’s right.

They don’t have a thing to worry about.

**Author's Note:**

> i did an inordinate amount of research into japanese customs and laws for this fic. knee-deep in the koseki wiki page, i was left thinking, "this is a fanfic about anime boys who play volleyball, how much realism and depressing politics do i want to inject?"  
> naturally, i didn't want to westernize the source material and i wanted to pay respects to the real area that these guys live in. at the same time, this is a fluffy proposal fic and i don't know how real i wanted to get with homophobia in this wretched little world (although japan is far from a violently homophobic country)  
> of course, i live in canada, and gay marriage has been legal here for a while. so it's kind of just... par for the course as far as the gays go (we all know that when you make discrimination illegal, it stops happening altogether......... right). it is not legal in japan, however, and as of writing this there is no pervading legal recognition of same gender relationships.  
> so i was at an impasse: proposals aren't illegal, and hey, they can get married in brazil.  
> and then i thought, man, i just want my boys to be happy. and since this fic takes place in 2022 -- a lot can happen in two years. i'm hoping and praying that the legalization of gay marriage is simply an eventuality. so yes. i did much research and my conclusion was "homo sex is in." i hope you all understand and aren't too put off by lack of realism. please i had this idea of hinata proposing in the karasuno gym and i just ran with it. thank you for reading  
> (in that same vein idk how volleyball works. google refused to provide a definitive answer for when the volleyball season is. i distracted you all with unnecessary poeticism *fanfare*)  
> again, thank you to my darling @ overwhelmingly_awesome for being a real one and cheering me on!  
> note: do i write these from kageyama's perspective to project my all encompassing love of hinata shouyou? maybe so. it's also because i'm a kageyama simp, and wait, what month is it again? oh shit oh f


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